A Demon Still
by LeChimera
Summary: Every year, a life is given to the demonic lion that haunts the forest. Due to his father's dealings in the past, Draco finds himself being forced to yield his life. Warning: HarryxDraco
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with Harry Potter. All characters, spells, and everything else belongs to the brilliant J. K. Rowling.  
>Rating: It will be M later on. Please keep this in mind.<br>Warnings: None yet, but I am considering M-preg for later chapters or a sequel.

* * *

><p><strong>A Demon Still - Chapter One<strong>

* * *

><p>People were yelling and laughing as the sun rose in the sky, illuminating their nightly work. Banners hung between wooden buildings, all brightly colored and waving happily in the light breeze that danced with them. Vendors lined either side of the single, dirt road, selling jewelry and clothe and carved masks. The townspeople walked from vendor to vendor, purchasing and admiring as they made their progress. Everyone wore bright colors of red and gold and shimmery white. They were enjoying themselves, celebrating before a time of dread.<p>

Well, they had something to celebrate; didn't they?

A young man, only nineteen years old, turned grey eyes from the scene outside and to a woman sitting in the middle of the room. Her pale hair was pulled into a tightly woven braid that fell gracefully over one shoulder. Her eyes were shuttered and lifeless as she stared back at him, not really seeing him. Her mouth, usually relaxed into indifference or mocking joy was pinched and drawn thin. Her slender hands clenched one another, turning the pale skin white and causing veins to become more pronounced. The most striking feature about her, though, was her clothing. Unlike the rest of the town, she wore a muted green with black, lace trim. It was both grieving and sinister as it engulfed her small frame.

He could remember what she looked like every year before this. Normally, she would be out with the rest of the town, wearing some flowing, white gown made from the finest clothe. She would allow her hair to cascade freely, and she would smile a knowing, confident smile that promised both blessed and wickid things. He wanted that back, but he knew that he wouldn't have that luxury. It was probably the first thing he'd ever been denied in his entire life.

Gripping the hem of his silver tunic and pulling out wrinkles that did not exist, he wished that he could ease her worry. He wished that he could make his mother smile again, just one last time. He wanted her to smile slowly at him and tell him something damaging about their neighbor or about her latest shopping order or.. Anything. He wanted things to be normal.

"There are others," she whispered. If he had not been watching her when she spoke, he would have thought it only in his head, but her lips had moved. "You are not the only one that they could choose, and since we have no other children.. The Parkinsons, they have three girls between the two families. We only have you. Surely, that will disuade them." She seemed to be speaking more to herself, but he forced a smile anyway. They both needed the reassurance that everything would be okay by this time tomorrow.

She didn't return his smile. She just continued to watch him, as if making sure that she would never forget what he looked like. It made his smile fall, replaced by a brief grimace before he corrected himself and showed the world only indifference.

Finally, a knock at the door drew his mother's attention away from him. She, like himself, watched the door ease open and a man walk in. Like himself and his mother, the man had pale blond hair, but his eyes were like Draco's. A silvermist tinted with the sky, or that was what his mother always told him.

The man was as lifeless as his mother as he glanced first at her and then at Draco. He nodded once before saying, "The ceremony is about to begin. We cannot be late."

They were usually late, not caring about the person chosen because his father and his associates had done the choosing. Secretly, of course. However, this year was different. His father had no say in the selection, so it would only be adding fuel to the fire if they were late.

So, they filed out of their neat, immaculate home and towards the center of town where a platform was kept for special news and events. The town was usually quiet by this point in the day, no longer able to banish the knowledge of what was to come, but not this year. This year they were still talking and laughing as they gathered. Smiles were present among the majority of the people present. Very few were silent.

Along with the Zabini, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott families, Draco and his parents lined up directly infront of the platform, as they had been instructed to do a few months ago. Blaise, a dark-skinned youth with sharp eyes, shifted places with Theordore Nott, a thin and tall young man, so that he stood to Draco's left while Draco's parents moved behind him. On his right was a girl with dark hair and a round face. Her eyes never left the platform, but she did reach out and grab his hand, holding tightly as she fought to keep the tremors from her body. Blaise said nothing, either. None of them did. There was nothing left to say, so together, they waited to see who would be sent to die.

Soon, the crowd grew silent. On the stage, an elderly man now stood. There were others behind him, but Draco paid them no notice. The man with the long, white beard was essentially their sentencer, so he paid him all of his attention, terrified as the man's blue gaze swept across them and lingered on Draco himself longer than the others. His blood ran cold, and he could feel Pansy's hand grow tighter even as another, firmer grip took his left hand. Two hands were placed on his back for support, and Draco drew strength from them to keep from crying on the spot.

That look was all they needed. The council had decided, and it seemed that their anger was greater towards his father than to the others. They had thought so. After all, his father had been maneuvering beneath his nose for years now. The man hated his father for his dealings, and in relation, he felt the same resentment towards Draco. Probably even more so since a Weasley child had been sent last year.

After raising a hand to silence the few people still chatting amongst themselves, he frowned in a sympathetic and pained fashioned as he looked dramatically over those gathered. He folded his hand together behind his beard and seemed to grow older as he looked from face to face.

Draco despised that man right then, more than he had ever loathed a person before.

"It is a sad tragedy that we must gather here again. Everyone here knows the same suffering as does each individual. Allow us to take a moment to remember those that have left our arms," his tone was soft, his words almost choked out, but he did manage to look at the front of the crowd for the second sentence of his speech. It was an omen, a promise, that they, too, would understand that suffering soon enough. "I have been given a great and terrible honor this year. After the discovery of tampering with previous selections, this year's sacrifice will come from only one of six families." A mutual mummur of agreement seemed to roll around him at that moment, making Draco sick.

The rest of the speech went unheard by this point. Breathing felt difficult, and his eyes stung as he tried to fight the urge to break down. They hadn't said the name yet, so maybe he still had a chance at life. But what would that mean? He would have to watch one of his friends go instead, and that would be just as bad. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to take over his father's work one day, to have a wife and kids, to watch his mother spoil them as she had done with him, but he also wanted his friends there. Theo was quiet but smart, and he could teach his children many useful things. Blaise was crafty and charming while Pansy was direct and too blunt. Even Crabbe and Goyle had their advantages. Crabbe knew over a dozen recipes for custard, and Goyle knew just how much salt could make you violently ill. He didn't want anything to change.

But things had to change, and as Albus Dumbledore drew up to the conclusion of his rattling, Draco knew that, too.

"And it is with a grieving heart that we have chosen Draco Lucius Malfoy as this year's sacrifice. With the giving of his life, may we all find peace for four more seasons."

He barely heard the anguished screams of his mother. He barely felt the arms of both his parents enveloping him. He didn't see the stricken faces of his best friends. He didn't notice Pansy being drug away by her own father, sobbing hysterically as she looked back at him. The only thing he knew at that moment was that he was not going to see tomorrow. He was going to be fed to a demon.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: This is just the start of the story, nothing much yet. I'm actually hoping to get the next chapter out tomorrow. After that, I will update every Thursday. The plot is already set and plotted, I'm just typing everything out. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think thus far.

Reviews = a happy chimera


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling.  
>Rating: M in this chapter, but don't get too excited. It's for implications mostly.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>A Demon Still - Chapter Two<strong>

* * *

><p>Only minutes had been given for him to say his goodbyes. In previous years, they had allowed the sacrifices atleast half an hour to speak with their loved ones, seek some comfort from hugs and held hands, but they gave him less than ten minutes to cling to his parents while a few of his friends hovered nearby, unsure of what to say or how to react.<p>

Too soon, hands were prying his mother's arms away from him while his father released him of his own will. The man moved automatically, it seemed. His father had always been something of a cold man, even with his family, but today, his eyes were harder than he could ever recall. His motions, normally flawless and graceful, were wooden and thoughtless as he gave Draco the same look that his mother had given him not even an hour ago. It tore through him, ripping a gasp past his lips that he could not control.

This was real. There was no escape for him. His father could not buy or bribe this issue away, and as that realization struck something inside of his chest, creating a deep ache that seared his every nerve, he was being pulled away from them by a set of firm hands on either of his arms, leading him towards the entrance of the gate that surrounded the entire town.

As he watched his mother throw her hands out, desperate to catch him and bring him back into her arms, his world grew blurred. As he watched his father grab her around her middle, holding her back with such a lost look of his own, it looked like they were on the other side of a waterfall. And for all that he knew, they might aswell have been.

"C'mon, lad," rasped an elderly, hunched man walking ahead of Draco and his two escorts. He was one of the eldest soldiers the town had. "Stop your crying. This is an honor." He spoke with confidence on the matter, as though he truly believed this. He also seemed to think Draco should, too, and be proud of the fact that he was essentially being led to slaughter.

"Why don't you take the honor, then?" he snarled after taking a moment to make sure he would not stutter or sniffle as he spoke. Some manners were too well-bred into him to even slip in a moment such as this. The thought brought a bitter smile to his lips. "Better yet, why don't you so-called soldiers just kill the beast? No one would have to die if you would just do your damned jobs!" His tone was louder than he'd meant, almost pleading by the end, but he pretended not to notice his own tone. He was merely stating a fact. Malfoys never begged. His father had told him that near daily for nineteen years.

The man chuckled ahead of him, surprising Draco. Then, so did the man to his right, a short snickering laugh that he did nothing to hide.

"Boy, I'm too old for the demon to take any interest in," the man spoke after containing his mirth. The sound of the wooden gate closing behind them cut across his next words, bringing a chill to Draco's heart. "When he demanded a sacrifice in _good faith _for letting us live every year, he was particular with his instructions. Young, but not a child. Slim, but not too much. Healthy, never ill. Can you think of why he would be so exact? Or why the bodies don't turn up until near the time for the new sacrifice? Did you know that they look as if they hadn't been dead for too long?" The man to his right snickered again. If in his proper mind, Draco would have decked him for finding humor in this, but at that moment, he understood some of the more vulgar and unseemly jokes that filtered through the town about the sacrifices.

His stomach turned dramatically, seemingly twisting and knotting, and he nearly coughed up the toast that he'd eaten that morning. Later, when he was thinking better, he would wish that he had puked.. Right on these three, uncaring soldiers.

"Why not try and kill it?" he whispered once his stomach had settled somewhat, just needing the distraction of words as they grew further and further from his home and so near the forest where no one was to enter.

The humor seemed to die there. The men grew silent as they marched on. It only served to make his nerves more frayed as the silence stretched on for far too long.

"It's a demon born from the misdeeds of the human heart," the man ahead finally said. "They say that he was human once himself, a great warrior, but the corruption of his people cost him his life and soul. In return, he killed them all, every last man, woman, and child. He is already dead, but he is living as the monster. Do you honestly think he can be killed? It would take strong and old magic to kill it, and that sort of power has been gone for decades."

Draco fell silent himself as he listened. If what was said was the truth, then the demon would never die. The only wizard known to hold great power in the art of spell-casting had been Merlin, and he had lived and died over a century ago. Witches and wizards after him had been nothing when compared to the power he'd once possessed.

As the forest loomed ahead of them, Draco focussed his attention on it instead of his dead-end thoughts.

He'd heard tales about these woods and the things that lived within their confines, their feared demon being only one of many dangers that lurked in its shadowy embrace. The trees that grew in the forest were different than any he'd ever seen before. Instead of brown, the bark was a dull black with grey veins. The leaves were probably green, but the shade was so dark that Draco amused himself by thinking that they, too, were black. The grass stopped at the edge of the trees. The lack of light that filtered to the ground within the forest could not sustain any other vegetation.

As they ventured through the first couple rows of trees, Draco found his heart calming. He hadn't known what to expect from the forest, but it actually seemed rather tame compared to the stories passed around. It sort of made him think that this was what a forest might resemble after a bad fire. Quiet, dark, and empty.

He watched the scenery, or lack of, as they walked along a path that was rarely used. He forced his mind to not think about his fate or what he was leaving behind. He forced himself to admire the patches of sky visible through the thick branches above his head, instead.

"Here. This is it," commented the man ahead, causing the two holding Draco to stop, too.

Turning his eyes to where the other three men were looking, Draco felt that hurting, numb, overwhelming feeling again. He did not want to be here.

He's heard of this place before, everyone in the town had, but like everything else, it had been glorified. In the stories, ghostly creatures lurked about, guarding the circle. In reality, there was only a circle drawn into the dirt. It wasn't very big, just big enough for a person to stand or sit inside of. But like the stories, inside of the circle resided a simple, black collar with an emerald on the front. The stone was dull in color, barely noticable in the darkness that seemed to permeate the forest from within.

Once the collar was around his neck, he could not leave the circle without the demon's permission. And the collar would not come off unless the demon removed it, presumably when it was time for a new sacrifice. He wasn't sure how the collar could prevent him from leaving the circle. The stories never said, and no one really seemed to want to know. He, especially, wasn't interested in finding out.

As they began dragging him towards the circle, he dug his heels into the ground, shaking his head frantically.

"No, please no. Don't do this. I-I don't want this," he breathed out, beginning to thrash in their grip, trying his best to break free.

This wasn't fair. He had never done anything wrong in his entire life! Well, maybe he was too spoiled, too bratty, and unable to share, but he had not broken any laws. He had never caused anyone any physical harm, not himself. His father had not even harmed anyone on purpose. What he and his friends had done was simply to protect their children. Anyone else, given the opportunity, would have done the same.

"None of the others did, either. C'mon, get him in here!" the man barked, turning his eyes around the forest, as though he feared the demon was watching. For all they knew, he probably was.

"That wasn't my fault! I didn't kill them! I didn't do anything wrong! Please, please, please," he begged, forgetting the fact that Malfoys never beg.

"Shut the fuck up!" snarled the man on his left, the first time he'd made a sound. "No one here cares about you."

Draco did stop his pleas, but he continued twisting and jerking his body in an effort to escape. So what if they didn't care if he died? He cared, and he was sure that his family did, too! So, he struggled with all of his strength. One particularly interesting twist connected his elbow with the stomach of the man to his right, causing him to momentarily lose his grip on Draco. With the slight advantage, he twisted his body again, intending to do the same to the other man and then scramble out of his grip and away from this foresaken place.

The hit to his face, however, derailed any plans of his before he could try. The man still holding him tightened his hold after lowering the fist that had probably broken his cheek bones. It felt like they were broken if the unbelievable pain was any indication.

"You little bastard!" yelled the man he'd elbowed a second later. And only a moment after that, Draco released a yowl of both pain and shock when he was struck in the face again.

"Stop! Don't-" the older man's voice warned them, but the man drew back with the intention of striking Draco for a third time. It was probably too late, anyway.

Draco closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact of the blow, certain that if the bones in his cheek were not already broken, they soon would be. He didn't feel anything, though. All he heard were wet noises, cursing, and a thud. The tight grip on his left arm even released him entirely, followed by two sets of running feet.

He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew that he didn't want to open his eyes. He screwed them tighter together, listening to the sound of soft steps around him. Whatever it was, and part of him knew exactly was it was, circled him twice, before walking away. Still, he kept his eyes shut, and a second later the thing came back to his side. This time, he felt hot breath fanning out across his face before something cold and heavy settled gently but snugly around his throat. He flinched at the contact, snapping his eyes open without thinking.

He imagined that he would be looking into the eyes of the demon that would claim his life, but there was no monster before him.

The man was tall, probably a few inches taller than himself, but as he crouched down in front of Draco, he made sure to be on the same level as the blond. As he noticed Draco's eyes were now open, he smiled slowly. It started first with his eyes, a bright almost feverish green. They narrowed slightly as his cheeks rose with the upturning of his thin lips. As his lips pulled back in the grin, Draco could not help but notice the point of a fang peeking out at him.

"Don't kill me. Please," he whispered without thinking, watching the end of that one fang as though entranced.

The man infront of him smiled wider as he leaned forward to sniff the air around Draco's face. It took everything in him not to flinch away then, but he was worried how that would make this man.. No, this thing react. So, he held himself perfectly still.

"I don't intend to kill you," the man said after a moment. "I will never kill you. I will mark you. Claim you. Own you, but I will never kill you."

His tone faded at the end, and he buried his nose in the crook of Draco's neck while wrapping his arms firmly around Draco's shoulders, holding him flush to his body.

Draco's entire body went rigid at both the words and the arms encircling him, nowhere near as comforting as his mother's hugs. His face grew several shades redder as the words fully sank in along with the fact that the man holding him wore nothing but dark, frayed at the end pants that fit low on his hips. Other than that, he had a nearly naked man clinging to him.

A chuckle near his ear caused Draco to jump in the embrace, which only made it tighten.

"How can you be so afraid and embarrassed at the same time?" the man questioned, nuzzling his nose against Draco's throat above the collar he now wore. Just as Draco thought about denying the claim, the arms tightened painfully in warning. "I can smell your emotions. Please, don't lie to me."

"I-I don't want to be here. I want to go home," Draco replied after several minutes, deciding that if this monster wanted honesty, so be it. It was the truth. He wanted to go home. He didn't want some barely dressed man with no soul holding onto him and saying that he intended to claim or own Draco.

A guttural purring met his words, followed by a jerking sensation that took his breath away. At first, he thought that maybe he was dying. Maybe his words had been enough to make the demon want to kill him right then and there. That might be okay. At least he wouldn't have to endure as the others had.

Instead of the darkness of the forest or the darkness of death, he was plunged into pitch black as his back landed on something soft. Blinking rapidly, he tried to understand what had happened.

"Is that better, baby?" was whispered next to his ear, making the hair on his neck stand on end. A weight settled across his stomach then as heated fingers traced the collar. "You said you wanted to go home, so I brought you home."

Draco wanted to tell him that he had meant _his_ home with _his_ parents back in _his _town, but before he could say anything, a pair of lips were pressed insistantly against his own. Teeth scraped at his bottom lip while the hands abandoned the collar and instead tore open the front of his tunic. Everything happened within only a few seconds, and it caused Draco's mind to shut off. Without listening to his logic that had kept him from retreating from the demon's touch so far, he jerked his head to the side, effectively tearing his own lip open on the teeth that had been worrying it. His hands instinctively moved to pull the shredded remains of his shirt closed.

The lips, now resting gently on his bruised and sore cheek, remained still while the monster's hands moved to grab either of his wrists. After a moment, the demon slowly pulled his hands away from his shirt and pressed them down on either side of his body. The lips shifted against his skin and pressed a single, light kiss there before he leaned back.

Glancing up, Draco could make out two eyes gleaming down at him, cutting through the darkness like that of a cat's.

"I'll forgive you for turning away from me," was said slowly, as if he was trying to keep his anger in check. "I'm sure you've had a bad day, and from your scent, I can tell you have never been touched. You probably didn't understand my intent. Did you?"

Not wanting to throw wood on the fire, Draco shook his head quickly, hoping to ease the tension in his captor.

The purring from before could be heard again, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he wouldn't die today.

"I like that. You don't want me angry; do you? You want to please me; don't you?" the demon asked, lowering his body back onto Draco's and nuzzling his hair. Draco made sure not to move this time.

"No, I don't want you angry," he said softly, biting into the cut on his lip before adding, "Yes, I do." If it kept him alive, that was all that mattered now.

The purring became peppered with light humming sounds as the demon continued smelling and nuzzling along Draco's face and neck, wetting the skin with a rough tongue from time to time.

"Good, good," was purred hoarsely. "Turn over, baby," the demon demanded, lifting his body off of Draco so that he could follow the command.

Biting back what he thought of the nickname as well as how degrading this entire thing was, Draco slowly did as he was told, turning so that he was on his hands and knees, shaking from both fear and anger. He did not want to give his virginity to some bloodthirsty monster, and it frightened him to imagine the pain.

"No, on your belly," said the demon, his tone becoming impatient as he placed a hand on the small of Draco's back and shoved him down. Draco barely had time to grunt at the shove before he felt his pants and underwear being pulled off of his body with one, quick move.

Again, he went still, his mind going blank as he listened to the appreciative purring behind him and felt the hands slowly caressing him from his hips down to his ass before strong hands squeezed harshly, sharp nails biting into his skin.

The nose was back at his neck, rubbing and sniffing his skin as the hands continued stroking and massaging whatever flesh they could reach.

Hiding his face away in the folds on his arms, Draco pushed what was happening to him out of his mind. He could get through this. He had to get through this, and later, whenever the beast was sleeping, he would leave. He could escape if he was just patient. He would not die here.

That was when he realized that the demon was no longer touching him, but he heard the sound of clothing being removed. Then, the warmth was back against his back, along with something hard sliding steadily and slowly against his ass.

"How much will it hurt?" he asked quickly, mostly hoping to stall what was about to happen to him.

"Why? Are you afraid of the pain, my mate?" the demon purred lightly, nipping at his shoulder while his hands gripped the blond's hips.

Mate? The nicknames were getting worse.

"Yes, you damned idiot! I'm fucking terrified of the pain you're going to give me!" he yelled out in frustration, trying to push himself onto his elbows to look at the demon. To his amazement, the demon allowed it, sitting back so that Draco could rise enough to look over his shoulder at him.

The eyes regarded him calmly before there was a snapping sound. Draco flinched at the sound, mistaking it for something that would hurt him. Instead, a fire came to life to the side of the old, worn bed where he lay. It illuminated the room, casting shadows across the peeling, beige walls where vines climbed and clung to whatever they could.

But Draco didn't pay the room more attention than that because the demon was staring right at him, smiling lazily as he shook his head from side to side.

"You have terrible language," he remarked playfully, sliding his body back over Draco's as he spoke. "I'm not going to cause you any harm, I said. There would have been discomfort, but I would never hurt you. I already told you that, silly."

He stopped supporting his own weight and settled comfortably ontop of Draco, pressing him down into the mattress.

"Would have been?" Draco asked after a moment of listening to the demon's breathing.

"You're too nervous right now. I want to. I want to claim you right now more than anything, but I can wait a little longer. I've been waiting for you for a very long time, Draco," he said softly, sadly, before yawning and rolling off of Draco. "Go to sleep, babe. We can talk about everything tomorrow." And with that, the demon closed his eyes with a happy grin and fell asleep with an arm and leg thrown across Draco's back and legs.

Draco stared at the slumbering man, eyes wide and mouth open. How did he know his name?

"Wait.. How do you..? Hey, wake up, moron! It's still daylight! We can talk now!" Nothing met his yells except another happy grin as the dark-haired demon cuddled closer to him, pressing his heated body against Draco's.

"Bastard," Draco seethed as he glared down at the demon.

* * *

><p>AN : Stay tuned for Thursday's update if you want this to make sense to you! =)

Reviews still = a happy chimera


End file.
